


put on your dancing shoes

by bropunzeling



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 20:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1871175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bropunzeling/pseuds/bropunzeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Anna’s sixth birthday, they take her to the ballet. </p><p>[Sidney Crosby becomes a dance dad. Geno is bemused.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	put on your dancing shoes

**Author's Note:**

> i talked about dance dad sidney crosby and then i wrote it because tHEY SAID WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW. thanks to michaud for betaing this nonsense; you're a star. title from the song of the same name.

For Anna’s sixth birthday, they take her to the ballet. PBT is putting on Sleeping Beauty, which has been Anna’s favorite Disney movie ever since Sid’s mom bought her a copy last birthday, and Sid buys the tickets feeling relatively confident that it’ll be a hit, at least among the house’s population under the age of 6.

Judging by the squealing noise when he and Geno tell her, Sid was right to buy three orchestra level seats.

On the big day, Anna insists they all dress up. “You have to look nice to go out,” she tells Sid as they stand in front of her closet, considering the dresses hanging up there.

“Well then, you should pick a dress so Papa and I can match you,” Sid tells her, and she eyes him.

“You can’t match,” she says with a frown. “Papa says you pick boring colors, and we can’t be boring.”

Sid frowns back at her. “I don’t wear _boring_ colors,” he replies, going through her dresses until he finds her current favorite, a blue one with lace and a satin ribbon Anna always ties into a bow a little too loosely. “Besides, wouldn’t we look nice if we matched?”

Anna accepts the hanger and dress from him, but she still looks at him with more derision than Sid would think possible from someone barely starting kindergarten. “Pick a good color,” she tells him, and Sid walks away with his hands up.

“Fine,” he says, “I’ll have your Papa help me,” and that finally gets her nod of approval.

“So,” Geno says when Sid makes it into their room, “I get to help you, yes?”

Sid rolls his eyes at him. “Don’t go mad with power,” he says, but he allows Geno to pick out his tie and shirt, though he draws the line at Geno helping him button things up – he doesn’t want them to be late.

Once they make it to the theater, they spend a good five minutes taking pictures – a few of Anna in front of a display of costumes for the Nutcracker that winter, and then an older lady offers to take a picture of the three of them, Geno hoisting Anna up so she can see better. Then the bell chimes for them to find their seats, and after Sid talks to one of the attendants to get a cushion, they all troop in together.

Sid got them good tickets, right in the middle of the orchestra level, but even with the seat cushion there’s a very tall man sitting right in front of Anna, and she spends the first five minutes shifting in her chair, trying to peek around his shoulders. “Daddy,” she says very quietly, leaning on the armrest so she can whisper in Sid’s ear, “I can’t see anything.”

“Do you want to sit in my lap?” Sid asks, and Anna nods, clambering over to sit heavily on Sid’s legs. She spends a couple seconds adjusting, spreading out her skirt, but then the Lilac Fairy begins a solo, and Anna freezes.

For a minute, Anna doesn’t move at all, totally focused on the woman on stage as she rises on her toes and balances delicately, doing slow turns and smiling out at the audience. Then the Fairy does a pirouette that ends with her lifting her leg high above her head, and Anna gasps.

When Sid looks down, he finds Anna staring at the stage with an intensity Sid finds oddly familiar, mouth half open as she gapes up at the Lilac Fairy. It takes both of them a few seconds to remember to clap as she curtsies, Anna too busy watching the dancer and Sid too busy watching her.

In the pause between soloists, Sid glances over at Geno, only to find Geno smiling at both of them, warm enough that Sid feels it all the way down to his toes.

The rest of the act passes without incident. Sid was a little worried that Anna might get bored or fidgety, but Anna spends the whole hour entranced, still enough that Sid wonders if he should check if she’s breathing. When it’s finally intermission, she seems reluctant to even get up, still staring at the closed curtains with a look of awe on her face.

“Come here, Annushka,” Geno says, reaching down to pull Anna up off Sid’s lap so he can finally stand up, “we need to let Daddy up, yes?”

Anna turns to look at him, arms looped around Geno’s neck, and says, very seriously, “Papa, that was the most beautiful thing I ever saw.”

Sid and Geno exchange a glance, and Geno replies, “Was it?”

Anna nods, still clinging onto Geno’s neck as they walk up the aisle and out into the lobby. “She went up on her toes, Papa,” she says, and from there the floodgates open, as Anna tells them exactly how beautiful she thought every single thing the principal ballerina did had been. 

Geno listens to it all very seriously while Sid talks to the people selling drinks, getting them each a soda and a piece of over-priced cake to share. When he makes it back, Anna immediately sets to devouring her part of the cake, and Geno leans in to whisper in Sid’s ear.

“She get look,” he says, taking his soda from Sid and uncapping it. “Stare up at stage, mouth like --” and he makes a fairly good impression of Anna’s focused face, mouth in a line and squinting at Sid, before he breaks and laughs a little.

“Oh,” Sid says, looking down at where Anna’s still mumbling about the ballerina’s spins as she smears chocolate frosting all over her mouth, and Geno nudges him with a shoulder, puts a hand at the small of Sid’s back.

“She look so focused -- wonder who she get from, huh?” he says, light in Sid’s ear, and Sid laughs a little even as an idea emerges in the back of his mind.

When the show ends an hour and a half later, Sid carrying Anna out on his hip and listening to her mumble about how pretty it was, the idea solidifies a little more – and when Anna’s still talking about the ballerina three days later, Sid starts looking up dance studios.

-

It turns out there’s a pretty nice studio about a twenty minute drive away, and most importantly, one that will take late-comers. When Sid calls, apologizing about it being a month after the start of classes, the secretary just laughs.

“You called just at the right time – our waiting period ends in November. Now, we have a couple slots opening in our beginning ballet class on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 5:30. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Sid says, penciling it in, filling up the blank space between Anna’s skating classes on his calendar.

“Well then, we’ll see you this Thursday. You can fill out the paperwork when you get there – just make sure you have a leotard, tights, and shoes.”

“Will do. Thank you so much,” Sid replies, earning himself another laugh.

“No problem, Mr. Crosby.”

The secretary hangs up with a click, and Sid looks up to find Geno looking at him, chewing a piece of toast and raising his eyebrows. “What?” Sid asks, setting down his phone and coloring in the blocks on the schedule with his pencil.

“Already sign up?” Geno asks, taking another bite of toast and getting jam on his upper lip.

“As if you haven’t heard how beautiful the Lilac Fairy was six times today,” Sid says, looking up at Geno to find Geno grinning back at him.

“Not saying is bad thing, just saying is fast,” Geno replies, finishing his toast. There’s still a smudge of raspberry jam just above his lip.

“Come here,” Sid says, reaching out to tug on Geno’s wrist. For a second Geno fakes reluctance, only stepping closer after heaving a big sigh, but then he goes easily, allowing Sid to grab his t-shirt collar and haul him down. When Sid kisses him, he tastes sweet.

“I think she’ll like it,” Sid mumbles against Geno’s lips, and then his phone alarm chimes for him to go do pick-up at kindergarten. He pulls back, releasing Geno’s shirt and patting his chest before reaching for his phone. “You okay with starting dinner? I think everything’s thawed.”

“Work me so hard,” Geno complains, but he steps back so Sid can get up, giving Sid a playful slap to the ass. “Go, go.”

“Bully,” Sid says without any heat. He grabs his keys and heads out the door, waving Geno a quick goodbye as he goes.

-

Thursday rolls around faster than Sid thought, and Anna spends the whole hour before class tearing around the house like a three-foot tornado. “Anna,” Sid calls, walking around the entryway before heading up the stairs and accidentally scaring the cat off the top step, “come here! We need to get you dressed for class.”

“I’m _getting_ dressed,” Sid hears, and he stops in Anna’s doorway to find Anna struggling with her tights, half of the leg hanging off her foot. She looks up at him, pushes her hair out her face, and says pathetically, “I need help.”

Immediately Sid drops to his knees and takes the tights from her, scrunching up the legs until she just has to stick her foot in and pulling them tight over her toes. “There you go,” he says, helping to roll them up her legs. “Think you can get your leotard on by yourself?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Anna says mulishly, pulling the new black leotard up her legs and struggling into the sleeves. “I can do my hair too.”

Sid considers the masses of wavy dark hair and winces. “Maybe not that part, honey. Daddy’ll help with that.”

Anna huffs out a sigh, but when Sid walks over to the bathroom, she follows.

Ten minutes later, Anna’s bun looks sad and lop-sided, but finally her hair is up, thank god, and they can get in the station wagon and head out to the dance studio. “You have your shoes, too?” Sid asks as they head downstairs and towards the garage, and Anna nods.

The drive out isn’t too bad, only twenty minutes or so, and Sid parks in the studio parking lot. Anna takes his hand when they walk up to the doors, and Sid can’t help relishing it – he knows that soon enough, Anna won’t want to hold his hand at all.

“Hi,” he says to the secretary, an older lady with glasses and a short salt-and-pepper haircut, “I’m Anna’s dad?”

“Crosby-Malkin, right?” the secretary asks, typing something and glancing at her computer screen.

“That would be us,” Sid says, watching as Anna stands on her tiptoes to peer over the desk.

The secretary smiles at her, then at Sid. “Perfect. Good to meet you in person – I'm Rose. Now, Anna, you’ll be in Miss Leah’s class in Studio B – do you want your dad to walk you over?”

“No,” Anna says, shaking her head, “I can do it.”

“All right then – it’s just down the hall and to the left. You can’t miss it.”

Sid crouches down to give Anna a hug, pulling away and brushing a kiss against her forehead. “I’ll be back in an hour. Have fun, okay?”

“Duh,” Anna says, but she kisses his forehead too before breaking away and half walking, half running down to her classroom.

Sid straightens up to find Rose smiling at him, and he can feel his cheeks flushing a little. “So,” he says, “what do I need to do?”

“Well, I have some forms for you to fill out, and then you’re set,” Rose replies, passing him a couple sheets of paper, and Sid gets to work filling out Anna’s name, address, and emergency contacts.

After he finishes his paperwork, he has no idea what to do with himself. There’s a Starbucks about two blocks away that he could hang out in until 6:30, so after parking the station wagon, he walks over, pulling his baseball cap a little lower over his face. While the public recognitions and selfies and autograph requests have all slowed down since he and Geno retired, Sid still likes a healthy separation between his private life and the press, and Geno and Anna need to most definitely stay on his side of that gap.

Ordering coffee goes without incident, and Sid’s just settled down in a chair to fiddle with his phone and wait when a woman about his age sits across from him. “Is yours in Leah’s 5:30 too?”

Sid glances behind him, but evidently the woman’s talking to him, so he nods and says, “Yeah, I – we just started today.”

The woman grins at him, taking a sip of coffee. “She’s wonderful, Leah is. Really gets what it’s like to be that age and how to teach them, you know?”

“Sure,” Sid replies, smiling back.

The mom holds out a hand to shake, and Sid takes it. “Emily Nkwocha,” she says. “Nice to meet you.”

“Sidney Crosby,” Sid replies, bracing for recognition – though hopefully nothing as awkward as the cashier in the Giant Eagle who wanted to talk about his total career assists for ten minutes straight. 

It doesn’t come. Instead, Emily takes another sip of coffee and asks, “So, have you figured out the ballet bun yet?”

“No,” Sid groans, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand, and Emily just laughs at him.

“Let me give you some tips.”

When Sid goes back to pick Anna up, hoisting her up on one hip as she grins and chatters about all she’s learned today, he has Emily’s number and a list of Youtube videos saved to his phone. 

-

Anna takes to ballet like a duck to water, and going to class quickly becomes her favorite activity right after hockey practice and play dates with some of the other Pens kids. She starts wearing her leotard around the house, walking on her tiptoes down hallways and holding her arms in an O above her head. Occasionally Sid catches her doing pliés in her bedroom, using the post of her bed as a barre.

Sid likes it too – he likes the routine of dropping Anna off and talking to the other moms at Starbucks, going to Watch Week and waving at Anna in the mirrors, putting up Anna’s hair in the bathroom using a method from one of the videos Emily recommended. He buys a couple Tchaikovsky CDs to listen to in the car and starts being able to tell the difference between The Firebird and Swan Lake. Five o’clock PB&Js become part of making sure Anna makes it through dance class, rather than a pregame snack.

Still, though, Sid wonders a little about this new thing he and Anna have, because the thing is, he doesn’t want Geno to feel left out.

When he brings the topic up after breakfast on a Saturday morning while Anna talks to her grandmother in halting Russian on the phone, though, Geno just laughs.

“Not left out,” Geno says, bracing himself on the counter with one hand and boxing Sid up against the counter, smiling down at him. “Anna and I have Russian, now you and Anna have ballet. Each have own thing. Is good, you know?”

“Yeah, but, if she likes it – I don’t know.” Sid sighs, setting his coffee mug down on the countertop. “You should be a part of it too.”

Geno hums, shrugging a little. “I go to show, clap and bring flowers, but rest for you. You like having this with Anna, yes?”

“I, yeah,” Sid replies.

Geno nods at him, quick and sure. “Then that, that. Don’t worry, I still clap loudest.” He leans down and presses a kiss to Sid’s lips, right before turning to take the phone from Anna so his mama can talk to someone with a much larger vocabulary than her granddaughter.

Still, it niggles at Sid, and even though Geno said he didn’t mind, he still spends a solid hour up trying to think of some way that Geno can get involved. It isn’t until he’s fruitlessly browsing Amazon that he thinks of a solution.

“What you do up so late?” Geno asks when Sid slips into bed and under his arm, burrowing into Geno’s warmth.

“You’ll see,” Sid whispers back, eyes falling shut even as Geno drops a kiss on his forehead and pulls him in closer.

Two days later, Sid lets Geno open the Amazon package, anxiously watching his face. “I thought you could read it to Anna,” he says, trying not to fidget. “Even if the whole ballet thing isn’t, you know, _your_ thing.”

Geno holds up the copy of the picture book, a Russian version of _The Firebird_ that had good reviews and gorgeous illustrations, and beams at Sid. “Sid,” he says, and then he drops the book on the counter to kiss Sid lushly, the kind that makes Sid’s head spin as he grips the counter behind him. “You best,” Geno says as he pulls back, giving Sid another kiss, and another.

It’s only with great reluctance that Sid makes him stop, but, well. Anna probably shouldn’t see her dads making out in the kitchen like teenagers. It’ll probably scar her.

If Sid gets a little gooey-eyed leaning against the doorframe to watch Geno reading to Anna at story time later that night, well. Only the cat sees him, and Theodore’s not telling.

-

It’s December before Sid knows it, Anna coming home from kindergarten with paper snowmen and tongue depressor snowflakes covered in glitter that she proudly sticks to the door of the fridge. Sid spends a full hour untangling the Christmas lights only for Theodore to get tangled in them, yowling when one strand won’t fall off his tail. Eventually, however, the house starts looking ready for the season, tree standing in one corner of the living room and three stockings hanging over the fireplace.

Sid’s family comes down a week before Christmas, and in a fit of inspiration Sid buys everyone tickets to the Nutcracker for a few days before the 24th. 

“I don’t remember doing this last year,” Trina remarks, taking a sip of the coffee Sid’s fixed for her the morning he picks them up from the airport. “Where’d you get that idea?”

“We went for Anna’s birthday, and she really liked it,” Sid says, fixing another mug for his dad, who accepts it with a grateful yawn. “I signed her up for lessons, and she’s been really enjoying it, you know. I think she might like it better than hockey, maybe.”

“A Crosby liking something better than hockey? Shocking,” Trina replies, raising her eyebrows. 

Sid tamps down on the urge to roll his eyes – he’s pretty sure his mom will dress him down, grown adult or not – and instead fixes coffee for himself and Geno, leaving enough in the carafe for Taylor whenever she wakes up after her redeye from Boston. He finds Geno and Anna in the living room, Anna watching some cartoon and Geno playing something on his phone. “Hey,” he says, sliding onto the couch next to Geno and offering him his mug.

“Morning, Daddy,” Anna says with the sunniness of a six-year-old, and Geno hums, taking the mug of coffee and downing half of it in a single gulp.

“What, no ‘hello’ for me?” Sid chirps, and Geno turns to kiss him quickly, tasting like coffee.

“Morning,” he mumbles, right before turning back to his game.

Sid curls up on the couch and sticks his feet under Geno’s thighs, laughing when he yelps at how cold they are. 

Eventually Sid’s parents come into the living room, bringing their coffee mugs and sitting on the loveseat, and halfway through another episode of Anna’s cartoon Taylor makes her way over to the armchair, where she makes a noise like a beached whale before curling up into her Blades hoodie and probably passes out again. Most of the morning passes just that way, in the strange timelessness of the holidays, where whole hours slip by as they lounge around the living room and do absolutely nothing.

Sid’s a few seconds away from dropping off again when his phone buzzes in his pocket, and he groans, squirming to look at it.

“Oh,” he says, once he’s unlocked the screen, “we should probably get changed, since the show’s at two.”

He’s met with a chorus of reluctant grumbling sounds, but everyone makes their way to standing, Geno possibly the most reluctant of all. “Come on, up,” Sid tells him, poking him in the thigh with a toe, and Geno tips over to melodramatically collapse on top of Sid’s legs.

“Can’t get up,” he mumbles, turning his face into Sid’s kneecaps. “Too tired. Have to carry me.”

“Ugh, no,” Sid protests, trying to kick so Geno will get up off his legs and failing utterly. “You’re too tall for me to drag up the stairs.”

Geno peers up at him with a hangdog expression, one that he knows Sid likes to kiss off his face. In fact, Sid’s pretty sure that’s Geno’s intention, which is something he should probably discourage but he can’t exactly bring himself to care. Taylor’s already towed Anna up to her room and his parents are somewhere around the guest suite, and it’s with that knowledge that Sid allows himself to lean down and kiss Geno.

“Come on,” he mumbles when he pulls back, one hand cupping Geno’s jaw, “let’s go get dressed up. I'm sure Anna will have opinions about my suits.”

“Fine,” Geno says, mock reluctant, but he gets up off Sid’s legs so Sid can stand up, holding out a hand so Sid will help him to his feet.

Eventually they manage to make it out of the house and to the theater, the lobby full of other families with small children who had the same thought as Sid. Taylor immediately volunteers her lap for Anna to sit on for the afternoon. “I’ve gotta hang out with my favorite niece now, you know,” she says, picking Anna up easily and blowing a raspberry against her neck, making Anna squirm and giggle. “She can tell me whatever they’re doing up there.”

Anna nods seriously. “I know lots about ballet now,” she says, wrapping her arms around Taylor’s neck. “I could teach you some.”

“Could you?” Taylor asks, bouncing Anna a little and earning herself more giggles. “Could you teach me? I don’t know about that, Miss Anna.”

“I can too, Aunt Taylor,” Anna insists, beaming at Taylor, and Sid almost doesn’t register the noise of Geno’s phone camera until he looks over to find Geno taking pictures. He leans to bump Geno’s shoulder, but Geno just glances back to smile at him, easy and warm.

“She’s getting so big,” Trina sighs from behind Sid, and he looks over his shoulder to find her taking pictures as well, Troy watching from behind her.

“Shh,” Geno replies, “she stay small forever. Never grow up.”

“If only,” Trina says, a little wistful. It makes something stick a little in Sid’s throat, and he swallows hard, turning away to look at how Anna grins at Taylor, a little lop-sided, just like her fathers.

“So,” Sid says, pulling the tickets out of the inside pocket of his coat and passing them out, “should we go in?”

He lingers, though, watching Anna lead Taylor and his parents into the lobby, having been let down so she can tug them along, shiny patent shoes clicking on the floor. It takes him a second to realize Geno’s hanging back as well, dropping a hand to rest at Sid’s waist.

“She’s getting so big,” Sid says quietly, tipping his face up so he can look at Geno.

“I know,” Geno replies, leaning down to kiss Sid quick on the temple. “But we get to watch.”

-

On the Saturday of Valentine’s Day, Sid wakes up to an empty bed. When he checks his phone, grumbling about being cold without Geno covering him like a particularly lanky comforter, he finds that it’s already eleven in the morning. Stumbling around their bedroom and feeling oddly off-balance despite oversleeping so hard, Sid pulls on a pair of old Pens sweatpants and one of Geno’s t-shirts from Metallurg before padding downstairs, pausing only to quickly scratch Theodore behind the ears and listen to him purr. 

He hears the faint sounds of Tchaikovsky – Sleeping Beauty, he thinks – coming from the kitchen, and very quietly peeks around the doorframe.

Inside, Geno and Anna are cooking – well, more accurately Geno’s trying to cook, while Anna demonstrates first position.

“You have to point your toes out more, Papa,” Anna says, hands on her hips. 

Geno, one eye still on the pancakes cooking on the griddle, shifts his feet accordingly. “That better?” he asks, reaching over to flip the pancakes, which are only slightly too brown.

“A little,” Anna allows. “But your arms are all wrong, Papa.”

“Wrong?” Geno parrots, pulling a face at her. “How wrong?”

“You have to hold them in front of you. Like holding a beach ball, Miss Leah says,” Anna says, demonstrating for Geno. The circle of her arms admittedly has a few more sharp elbows than the dancers at PBT, but she doesn’t even wobble, which is more than Sid could say if he tried to balance while standing like a duck.

“Oh,” Geno says, raising his eyebrows. When he glances up, he sees Sid in the doorway, and the smile he gives Sid is big and crinkled and warm enough for Sid to feel across the room. “Maybe you make Daddy try, yes?”

Anna turns around and shrieks a little when she sees Sid, bounding up to him and hugging his legs tight enough that Sid has to grab onto the doorframe for balance. “Daddy you’re up! Papa and I are making pancakes, and we have jam, and Papa said we should give you Valentine’s Day kisses but I don’t think I want to.” She wrinkles her nose as she says the last part, and Sid can’t help laughing at it.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to give me any kisses if you don’t want to,” he replies, ruffling her hair a little.

Anna nods at him. “I was also teaching Papa ballet, but he’s pretty bad at it so I don’t think I’ll teach him anymore,” she says.

At that, Geno slaps a hand to his chest and collapses dramatically against the counter. “I bad? So mean, Annushka!”

“It’s _true_ ,” Anna replies, even as Geno makes a low moan like a dying cow, winking at Sid over the top of Anna’s head.

“Maybe you should let Papa finish cooking, and you can teach me instead,” Sid offers.

Anna’s face lights up. “Okay! You can use the counter as the barre and we can do pliés.”

Making breakfast goes a little smoother after that, Anna concentrating on nudging Sid’s feet perfectly in place and telling him to straighten his knees while Geno keeps cooking, the stack of pancakes on a plate growing higher and higher. Soon enough Sid has first and second position down, but they run into trouble when Anna tries to teach him fifth.

“No, Daddy, you have to cross your feet more,” she says, pulling on his ankle to drag his right heel closer to his left toe. Sid still has the quads of a professional player, though, and he’s pretty sure that no matter how much Anna tugs, his right foot won’t go any further.

“Are you sure? I don’t think my foot wants to go,” he says, and Anna scowls up at him.

“It has to. Otherwise it’s not _fifth_ and you look stupid,” she says fiercely.

Sid’s just about to chide her for that when Geno bursts out laughing, loud enough that both of them look up and over towards the stove. “Annushka, you being so bossy today! Wonder who that from?”

“Geno,” Sid starts, but Geno’s grin is infectious, and soon enough he’s laughing too, hard enough that he falls back into one of the barstools when he can’t hold fifth position any longer. Anna’s staring between them, still trying to keep up her scowl, but she caves too, until the whole kitchen is ringing with their laughter and the sound of Tchaikovsky.

Later, once they’re all seated in the breakfast nook and Anna’s busy eating her stack of pancakes with the artificial syrup Sid wishes he could get away with throwing out, Geno rests his arm on the back of the bench, reaching up to twine the hair curling at the nape of Sid’s neck between his fingers. 

“What time did you get up for this?” Sid asks, leaning in a little.

Geno shifts so Sid can lean on him, scratching his nails into Sid’s scalp and tucking Sid into his side. “Anna get up at – eight? She very insistent.”

“And you managed to get up before me?” Sid asks, taking a sip of the coffee Geno made for him – one sugar and barely any cream – and peering up at him.

Geno grins at him. “We plan for week,” he says. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” and Sid can feel himself flushing, pleased down to his toes.

“Oh,” he says, and then he twists a little, enough to find Geno’s mouth and kiss him. Geno tastes like jam and coffee and overwhelmingly sweet, and Sid hopes he never gets tired of it.

“Ew,” Sid hears, and he pops his eyes open to find Anna wrinkling her nose at them, syrup making her cheeks sticky as her eyes narrows. “Daddy, you and Papa are being gross.”

“We not gross,” Geno mumbles, pulling a little on Sid’s hair so he looks back at Geno. “You can shut eyes, yes?”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Anna groans, but she squeezes her eyes shut just in time for Geno to tilt Sid’s face and kiss him again.

-

Sid’s been going to Watch Week ever since Anna started at the studio, enough so that it’s almost routine. The Thursday of the last week of the month, they go to the studio a little early, he buys a coffee for him and for Emily, who always sits next to him on the blue leather studio benches, and he and the other moms watch their kids do flex-footed leaps and screw up their faces in concentration while they tendu. 

A couple of times Sid invites Geno to come along, but he always waves it off.

“For you and Anna,” he says on the Thursday at the end of March, poking away at his laptop and glancing at the screen over the top of his glasses.

“Yeah, but it’s open to all parents,” Sid says, taking a bite of his sandwich. Anna’s eating hers in the living room, watching old reruns of Looney Tunes, dance bag right next to her on the floor. “You’re not super busy, right?”

“No,” Geno admits, looking at Sid over his laptop, screwing up his mouth a little. Sid knows Geno still thinks this is something just for Sid and Anna, that him coming along would be intruding somehow, but judging by the way Geno’s chewing his bottom lip, Sid’s pretty sure that he’ll cave pretty easily if Sid applies just the right amount of pressure.

“She wants you to come,” Sid says as insistently as possible, and Geno huffs out a breath, smiling with just the corner of his mouth.

“Got it, Sid, I come with,” he says, and Sid beams at him around his mouthful of sandwich.

“You sure? I could repeat it,” Sid replies.

Geno just groans at him, standing up and stretching a little, enough that Sid can hear his back cracking. “I say I got it. No need to say again,” he says, kissing the corner of Sid’s mouth as he passes.

“Good,” Sid replies, and then he goes to collect his car keys and his daughter.

Anna, of course spends the entire drive over incredibly excited, bouncing in her car seat as Geno fiddles with the radio and Sid protects them all from the Pittsburgh left.

“Papa, today we’re going to show you _turns_ , and, and, we’re doing a dance for our recital that’s really pretty,” she says as Sid drives. “Miss Leah says we still have a lot to learn, but I like it. Do you like it, Daddy?”

“Of course I like it,” Sid says, batting Geno’s hand away from the radio and putting on the CD of Prokofiev he bought last time he went to the dance store to buy new ballet shoes.

“See? We’re going to be _awesome_ ,” Anna tells Geno, who twists in his seat to nod at her.

“Of course. Just like your papa,” he says solemnly, and Sid gives him a punch to the shoulder as he rolls to a stop at a four-way intersection.

“What, I'm not awesome too?” he says, and Geno barks out a laugh.

“Only sometimes,” he says, grinning at Sid sidelong.

They stop at the Starbucks and the barista is momentarily thrown when Sid adds, “and a chai latte, please?” to his usual order. Anna pouts about being left out, but she’s over it by the time they get to the studio, concentrating instead on giving Geno the best tour possible.

“And that’s Miss Rose, and she does stuff with computers and forms and has the best pens because they have flowers on top, and that’s Naomi’s mom. She and Daddy sit together a lot,” she says as Emily gives the three of them a wave.

“The whole family’s here today, huh,” she says, taking her coffee from Sid, and Sid nods.

“Finally convinced her papa to give Watch Week a try,” he replies.

Emily nods, giving Geno a smile and a wave as Anna tows him along the hallway. “He’s cute,” she remarks, raising her eyebrows and elbowing Sid a little. “I can see why you keep him around.”

“Um,” Sid replies, taking a sip of his coffee as the top of his cheeks burn. “Right.”

“Daddy!” Sid hears, and thank god for children, because Anna’s waving him imperiously into Studio B and away from Emily and her knowing looks.

Class starts in the usual way, which is to say a few minutes late and with a couple of stragglers still trying to pull on their shoes or sitting still as their moms fix their hair. Miss Leah, who wears brightly colored leotards and is full of more energy than even some of her students, barely gives Geno a second glance before starting up her iPod and ushering everyone to the barre. “Pliés, everyone!” she says, holding onto the shelf with the speakers to demonstrate, and Sid turns to watch, as he always does, Anna, the very last one in line, as she screws up her face in concentration and carefully places her feet.

“Look like you,” Geno whispers, as Anna presses her lips in a line and stretches out her arms, and Sid huffs out a laugh, sipping his coffee.

On Sid’s other side, he gets a nudge. “Shh, no flirting,” Emily whispers with a smile.

They get through barre with barely a wobble, Miss Leah telling them to point their feet and soften their fingers. “You’ll look like lobsters!” she says, pinching her fingers in one little girl’s face as the class giggles. When Sid glances back at Anna, he finds her looking at her own hands in concentration, clearly trying very hard to make her hands go soft.

Then it’s out to center and the turns that Anna’s so excited about. The teacher demonstrates a couple of them, something called a soutenu and another called chaînés. Most of the kids are too off balance to get it down, spinning around a couple times before collapsing on each other and giggling. Sid worries a little when Emily’s daughter knocks into Anna, but Anna just laughs it off, pulling Naomi to her feet so they can both try again.

All in all, the class goes pretty great, though everyone does get shooed out in the last twenty minutes so they can work on their piece for the end of the year recital in secrecy. “We like surprising you,” Miss Leah says as she shuts the door, and everyone troops out to the lobby to hang around and chat while they wait. Geno and Emily, to Sid’s relief, get along famously, especially since Emily’s volunteer service at the nearby animal shelter means she has plenty of photos of adorable animals that Geno can coo over.

“Please don’t show him any more,” Sid says, even as Geno makes gooey eyes over one particular grey kitten. “We already have a cat.”

“But so cute,” Geno begins, clearly gearing up to make a case for why they could have another kitten only to be interrupted by class getting out.

Once she makes it to them, Anna immediately holds up her arms to Geno, because she knows a sucker when she sees one. “Did you like my turns, Papa?”

“Very much, Annushka,” Geno replies, letting Anna loop her arms around his neck and bracing her against his hip.

“What about at the barre?” she asks them.

“You were great, honey,” Sid says, brushing a loose strand of hair off her forehead, and Anna hums, pleased.

“I’m hungry. Can we go out, Papa?” She looks at him, all big brown eyes and a pleading look that Sid’s seen on Geno’s face a thousand times, and Geno, of course, caves.

“Where we go eat, Annushka?”

“Thai,” Anna declares, and Sid gives Emily a quick parting wave before leading the three of them out of the lobby.

“There’s a place about a block away,” he tells Geno, who nods and flicks Anna on the nose.

“Hear that? Thai food very close.”

“Good,” she says. “I could eat a whole elephant, Papa.”

“An elephant? That huge. Your stomach would be so big, look like beach ball.” Geno uses his free hand to demonstrate, and Anna giggles.

“Okay,” she says, “maybe not an elephant.”

“Good,” Geno tells her, “I not want to have to roll you home.” As he says it, he reaches down to grab Sid’s hand, lacing their fingers together and swinging them between them.

-

It’s a long, long Tuesday, starting with a phone call with Brisson that lasts for hours that only gets compounded when Anna pitches a fit about her pre-ballet PB&J, crying because Sid used the wrong jam. When Sid gets a text from Geno saying he’ll be home late because of an afternoon meeting running long, he gives up on the day altogether, buying him and Anna Subway after ballet and wincing at what his mom would say about them eating out. Then, of course, it starts pouring as soon as they’re walking to the car, and Sid spends the entire drive home uncomfortably wet and cold.

“Come on, Anna” Sid says as he stands in the middle of the entryway, pulling off his soaked jacket and wincing as water sluices down his back. “You need to go take a bath, or otherwise you’ll be freezing.”

“Don’t want to,” Anna replies, shivering as she takes off the tiny purple Crocs Flower gave her for her last birthday so she could look “just like her dad.”

“Anna,” Sid insists, already dreading the next round of having to be the bad parent.

Fortunately, that’s right when Geno comes in from the kitchen, looking at both of them and immediately grabbing Anna around the waist. “Bath and bed, Annushka,” he says, carrying her up the stairs despite her protests.

While Geno takes care of Anna, Sid takes the chance to shower and change, pulling on a worn out pair of Geno’s sweatpants that fall too long over his toes and padding back downstairs. He collapses on the couch in the living room, flipping to something mindless on HGTV and trying to shake off the weight of the day.

Some amount of time later, he hears the creaks of someone coming down the stairs, and Sid tilts his head along the back of the couch to see Geno walking over.

Geno doesn’t say anything when he sits on the couch next to Sid, which Sid appreciates. Instead, they just watch a family look for a vacation place in southern Spain, Geno leaving his arm along the back of the couch, close enough that Sid can lean into it, if he wants.

When the show cuts to commercial, Sid’s tired enough to have trouble concentrating, the advertisement about vacuum cleaners blurring into a whirl of colors. It takes a few seconds for him to register that Geno’s speaking. 

“What?” he asks, blinking furiously so he can focus on Geno’s face.

“Talk to adoption people today – that why meeting run so long,” Geno repeats, reaching out with one hand to pet Sid’s hair, carefully running his fingers through the strands in a way that feels amazing.

“Oh?” Sid asks, leaning into the touch, and Geno hums.

“Say if want more kids, should be easy, not so long as last time. Can have new brother or sister for Anna next year, maybe.”

“Really?” Sid asks, feeling a little more awake as he turns fully to look at Geno. “I – no kidding?”

“No kidding,” Geno repeats, grinning at him softly.

“Oh,” Sid says again, the reality of what Geno said sinking in and making him beam. “Oh, that – Geno,” he says, and Geno’s smile widens.

“Can fill up house. Lots of Crosby-Malkins,” he says, and Sid has to kiss him.

It starts as something soft, Sid’s intention nothing more to show how happy this makes him, how excited he is that he and Geno have the chance to make their family bigger, their life together bigger. But then Geno makes a noise and pulls on the back of Sid’s neck, and suddenly Sid’s scrambling over to straddle Geno’s lap, anything to get closer.

“We’re doing this,” he mumbles, even as Geno leaves quick kisses down the line of his jaw, lightly running his hands up and down Sid’s sides and finding the places that make Sid squirm and laugh. “You and me, we’re doing this.”

“Yes,” Geno agrees, even as he devotes his attention to nipping at the thin skin of Sid’s neck. “Us, together,” and Sid knows these things, he knows them like he knows how to skate and shoot a puck and lead Geno out on the ice, but it still makes something light up in his ribcage, knowing that he and Geno are doing this together, that they’re in this together.

“Yeah,” he says, but then he can’t find the words, and ducks down to kiss Geno instead. 

He breaks away soon enough, but that’s because Geno’s decided to tickle him for real, and then start leaving kisses all over Sid’s face. “Like when you like this,” Geno mumbles, kissing the wrinkles by Sid’s eyes, the corner of his mouth. “Good to see you happy.”

“Well,” Sid says, squirming and giggling as Geno’s hands keep him firmly in place. “I like when you’re happy too.”

“Good,” Geno hums, lips buzzing against Sid’s skin and making him laugh. When he does, his hips shift forward, and Geno’s laughter abruptly dies as he makes a choked noise low in his throat. His hands shift from Sid’s waist to his hips, fingers digging in the meat of Sid’s ass, shocking a moan out of him.

“Geno,” Sid says, even as one of Geno’s hands drifts around towards the front of his sweatpants, running up under Sid’s shirt before tugging at the waistband. “We can’t down here. What if Anna –“

“Anna,” Geno says, even as he pushes his sweatpants down Sid’s hips, “is asleep. Take bath, we talk, then she pass out. Not interrupt us.”

“But –“ Sid starts, but then Geno has his tongue in Sid’s mouth, and, well. He makes a pretty compelling argument.

It’s been a long time since he and Geno have done anything like this. After all, the thing about having a kid is that, well, there isn’t exactly time for making out and grinding on their living room couch like a couple of teenagers. It’s probably thanks to that that Sid gets hard just from Geno sucking hickeys under his collarbone, rucking up his t-shirt with one hand and getting the other on Sid’s dick. 

When he tries to reach down and give Geno a hand, though, Geno bats it away. “Just wait,” Geno tells him, and Sid moans.

“What,” he says, aiming for chastising and landing squarely on horribly turned on, “you don’t want any help?”

“Later,” Geno croons, letting go of Sid’s dick to tug Sid’s shirt further up, until Sid has to lift his arms or get smothered. Geno throws the shirt behind the couch as he puts all of his energy into getting Sid as naked as possible without either of them getting up, even though he’s still fully dressed, the cotton of his t-shirt rubbing against Sid’s skin.

“You,” Sid says, even as Geno resumes his plan to take Sid apart, sucking a bruise under Sid’s collarbone as he does something with his thumb right under the head of Sid’s dick that never fails to make Sid shiver. “You don't want to get naked too? It’s not – not very fair.”

“Later,” Geno repeats, mumbling the word against the flush spreading across Sid’s chest, free hand solid at Sid’s back, holding him close. “Want to watch you first.”

“Oh,” Sid says, and then he’s not so much saying much at all.

It’s easy, then, to let go, knowing that Geno has him here, has him exactly where he wants him. When Sid can manage to open his eyes, it’s to find Geno staring down at his hand working Sid’s dick, his lashes dark against his cheeks, mouth slightly open. It feels good, the weight of his gaze, settling Sid even as his skin starts feeling hot and tight. Geno looks at him like he’s amazing, like every single thing he does is perfect, and that, more than anything else Geno does, gets Sid to the edge.

“Geno,” he says, and when Geno drags his eyes up Sid’s body to meet his gaze, Sid can almost feel the pressure of it against his collarbones, his neck. “Geno, I’m going to –“

“Good,” Geno says, speeding up his hand and leaning in to kiss a mole on Sid’s chest, right before dragging his tongue along to nip at the curve where Sid’s shoulder meets his neck. 

It’s there, Geno’s hands anchoring him in place and his mouth against his neck, that Sid finally comes, getting Geno’s hand and his stomach sticky as he shakes and shivers. As he comes apart he collapses forward, forehead resting on one of Geno’s shoulders as he pants. He’s vaguely aware of saying something, maybe Geno’s name or “I love you,” but whatever it is, it makes Geno laugh as he pets Sid’s hair with the hand that isn’t covered in come.

“Love you too,” Geno says, and Sid blinks, sitting up enough to look Geno in the eye, right before kissing him squarely on the mouth.

Sid almost doesn’t expect it when Geno groans, shifting his hips in a way that makes it very apparent that he’s done waiting. “You ready now?” he mumbles against Geno’s lips, and Geno huffs out a breath.

“Don’t be tease,” he says, voice too strained to be grumpy, and Sid giggles even as he flicks open the buttons of Geno’s fly, Geno already shuddering every time Sid’s fingers brush his dick.

It doesn’t take long. Geno comes apart easy, quietly whispering Sid’s name against Sid’s lips, too undone to keep kissing him. They spend probably too long just collapsed in on each other, breathing heavily and not quite ready to get up, to go upstairs and into their very large, very comfortable bed.

“I think we’re getting a little old to be doing this,” Sid says, turning blindly to rest his face in the curve of Geno’s neck, inhaling Geno’s scent with every breath.

“Shh,” Geno says, chest rumbling a little. Sid can feel the vibrations of his voice in his ear more than hear it. “Was still good, even if you heavier now.”

“Shut up,” Sid replies, but he doesn’t try very hard to sound offended. “Do you want me to get up and leave you here? I could.”

“No,” Geno protests, his hand moving up to grip Sid’s shoulder. “Don’t leave alone.”

“I’m not sleeping on the couch with you,” Sid says.

“Then take me to bed,” Geno replies.

Sid laughs. “Okay,” he says, shifting to stand up. He grimaces at the cold stickiness all over his stomach before holding out a hand to help pull Geno to his feet, “I’ll take you to bed.”

-

They wait in the lobby at intermission, Geno holding a bouquet of sunflowers while Sid pats down his pockets for spare bobby pins. Anna’s class danced in the first act, all of them in blue tutus that sparkled under the stage lights. Anna was probably supposed to smile, but she spent the whole time concentrating too fiercely to remember that, her face screwed up as she did her tendus and pliés and, most important of all, her turns. 

The rest of the act was fine, of course, and Sid noticed Emily’s other daughter, the son of one of the other moms from Miss Leah’s 5:30, but by the second to last dance of the act Geno was already ready to get up and leave, and Sid didn’t blame him a bit.

Now, though, they just have to wait, avoiding other parents who are buying snacks and drinks in the theater and scanning the crowd for –

“Daddy!”

Sid almost doesn’t realize Anna’s found him until he feels the arms wrapped around his knees. Carefully he looks down to find Anna beaming at him, face covered in stage make-up that took Sid three tries to figure out and hair perfectly in place.

“Daddy, Papa, did you see me?” Anna asks, letting go of Sid’s legs only to hold up her arms, leaving her dance bag with her street clothes and shoes on the floor.

When Sid sweeps her up, she giggles. “Yes, of course we saw you,” he says.

Anna grins at him, right before looking over to find Geno holding his sunflowers and gasping in delight. “Papa, you brought me flowers?”

“Maybe,” Geno says, pulling a contemplative face until Anna scowls at him. Then he breaks, handing her the flowers and kissing her on the forehead. “Yes, Papa and Daddy brought flowers for their beautiful Annushka.”

“Did I do good?” Anna asks, clutching onto the collar of Sid’s button-down with one hand and her sunflowers with the other.

“Yes,” Sid says, giving her a forehead kiss of his own, “you danced beautifully.”

“Most beautiful girl there,” Geno agrees, but then Anna’s demanding Sid’s attention again.

“And did you see my turns? Miss Leah says I can do chaînés better than some of the older girls,” Anna tells him, tugging a little on Sid’s tie.

“They were the best chaînés I’ve ever seen,” Sid tells her, and Anna giggles.

There’s a clicking noise, and Sid glances over to find Geno taking pictures, holding up his iPhone to get just the right shot and grinning at them both. Anna, once she sees that Geno’s taking photos, immediately starts mugging for the camera, which just sets Geno to laughing, full and loud. Soon it's joined by Anna's giggles, and the sound of his two favorite people laughing is the best thing Sid’s ever heard.


End file.
